Keeper of the Sands
by kegusaran 14
Summary: Far south of Mossflower Wood, an empire thrives in harsh conditions. The King does all he can to protect his citizens and keep the peace, but with conniving lords, outsiders invading, and plots of murder and usurpation, the empire will do all it can just to stay intact. And all the power resides in the Keeper of the Sands.
1. Lord Bloodsand

"High Lord Bloodsand, Ruler of the all the South, owner of every dune and of all those that inhabit them. Keeper of the power, leader of the many hordes, king of all that has sun shine upon its surface."

A tall, muscular, slightly pot-bellied ferret sat listening to the young beast name off his many titles, mentally reciting them much faster than the young squire said them. He wished he could preoccupy his mind with other, more entertaining thoughts, but with an entire crowd of vermin observing him, he found it hard to let his mind wander. He sat upon the large, oak wood seat adorned with small jewels that served as the throne of the King of the South. He looked around at the crowd. Most of them lived in Yolatt, the large capitol of the Southern Empire where the trial was being held. There were a few he could point out that were definitely from other controlled areas, a slightly hairier rat from the northern most sands fanning himself, a tree dweller ambassador from the Northern territories, but for the most part it was well-dressed nobles.

"Judge of all life that can end. It is he that brings you forth to his presence to make your statements regarding the accusations made against you. You may now speak."

As his squire finished, Lord Natos of the White Dune got up from his kneeling position to stand on his paws, the rat standing as straight as his slight hunchback would allow. He was a bit on the rough side, his fur mangled looking and covered with the fine white substance his land was known for. His arched back made him seem older than he was, as did his intelligence. Despite having a thick accent and a vocabulary to be expected of a low class bottom dweller, he still knew the importance of who to be exceptionally social to, and who to distance himself from. To put it shortly, he was a brilliant brain with a poor body and mouth attached to it.

"Tis mah greatest priv'ledge an' pleasure to see yu mah lord." Natos smiled at his laughable attempt to speak at the same level as these fancy lords and ladies of the Southern court. He'd never been so out of place among vermin in all of his life.

The High Lord seemed to be equally amused by his speech, as he held up a hand and light heartedly joked, "Speak comfortably, old friend, we still understand basic language."

Natos smiled in appreciation and nodded. "I'm here cuz some folk thot I was plottin against ya, sir."

"Why would they say that?" Bloodsand's voice was a deep bass, and one could basically feel the testosterone vibrate in the air. Those who spoke to him personally knew he usually used a generally lighter and less dramatic voice for less professional occasions, but for right now, he spoke with as much power and intensity as a beast could possibly muster.

"Well Hellsgates, ifn I knew that I woulda just asked ya to let me take care of it mahself." Natos inwardly reprimanded himself for being so casual with Bloodsand. Despite not being extremely strict with conduct, the High Lord always demanded respect from the subservient when in a public matter.

"Can you name any of those that spread word against you, mate?" The Lord of White Dunes breathed a sigh of relief at his lord's casual conduct, and he surveyed the room. He knew those responsible for this whole situation would be here. Bloodsand continued. "And should they be here, would they kindly step forward."

The entire room had held a rather calm feeling until now. The High Lord surveyed the new found pandemonium with slight amusement. Beasts were abuzz, their heads moving back and forth talking to the other vermin around them, their voices hushed as not to be heard by some not far away, and their eyes worried as though they all feared they might get caught having done something. After some time of looking around, Natos returned his gaze to his superior and smiled.

"I could mi'lord." The room's new hectic atmosphere ended as quickly as it began, now returning to silence. Not a beast lacked tension in all their muscles as Natos began listing of names. "Lady Iceknife of the North Sands, Lord Steeltooth of the Yellow Beaches, and Lord Lask Sulmor of the East Swamps."

As commanded, the three whose titles were listed stepped forward to join Natos in the center of the room. A more odd combination of supposed conspirators could not have been conceived, Bloodsand noted.

Lady Iceknife, despite being of a younger age, was still one of the longest lasting ladies of the Southern Empire. A rather tall, slim ermine from the extreme North lands, her slow climb up the positions of power stemmed from being a very serious and strategic student of war tactics. She was one of the greatest close ranged fighters, with her trade mark "ice-knife" being only one of the numerous ways she disposed of enemies. She was an exceptional commander of large armies, being especially gifted in knowing how to use geography and the flora and fauna of an area to her advantage. She had been a lowly soldier when she arrived, but after a few grueling seasons of war against an army led by weasel warlord, she was the new lady ruler of the newly claimed North Sands.

Lord Steeltooth was just below Bloodsand in age, and was quite popular in the court. His handsome appearance and rather flirtatious demeanor were perhaps even bigger aspects of his character in the lands than his mysterious set of jaws that looked and felt as though they were indeed made of steel. Those who didn't know of him or his reputation would say that he was still an imposing figure despite his attractive features. For starters, he was a wearet. Perhaps the only time in the history of vermin-kind had a weasel-ferret hybrid not come out looking like a snarling monster. He did carry the extreme height and muscle of his infamous brethren, but beside that, one would hardly believe he was related to such vile abominations.

On the far right there stood Lord Lask Sulmor, the lord of all reptiles and amphibians of the Eastern Swamps. Titled similar to his fathers before him, such as the infamous Lask Maldor and Lask Ralmor, he held one of the worst reputations in court, often being affiliated with non-authorized business dealings with armies outside the Empire and occasionally making the off hand comment about his disdain for vermin and woodlanders alike. He was average sized for a monitor (so still very tall) but was rather scrawny. One thing that did make him stand from his peers was that his scales changed colors. As of right now, he was completely white, with the only differing color being his slits for eyes and his crimson colored stump where a left claw was supposed to be. The story behind that was very vague, but most guessed it had something to do with some settlement in the North, as he never ventured that way from his home, except for meetings such as this.

The three knelt in the traditional procedure, and held blank expressions, though their eyes continued to alternate between Natos and Bloodsand.

"Lady Iceknife, Lord Steeltooth, Lord Sulmor, you three have spoken out against Lord Natos?"

Steeltooth was the first to speak up. "I have indeed spoken out against Natos, for he has been unfaithful to the great Southern Empire."

"I haff also spoken against zee rat for zee same reasons, High Lort." Added Iceknife.

Lask merely nodded in agreement.

Natos scowled at the three, each noticing but not responding with any reaction of their own.

"Have you any evidence that Natos has shown treachery?" Bloodsand asked.

"Indeed, good keeper of the power." Steeltooth stood up, towering over the rat who stood beside him by about double his height. "In fact my trusted friend Gnash has some very special documents procured from Lord Natos' personal messenger. If we could ask him to come forward as well?"

"Granted." The high lord watched a gold colored cat saunter up to where the center, which seemed to be filling with quite the variety of his subjects. Gnash, though lacking a title, seemed to be very well known through the court, for about the same reasons as his good friend. It was public knowledge the two were close as kin, and they shared many similarities in personality. The only difference came in Gnash being less amorous, and a bit wittier, than Steeltooth. He was also less well built. Not scrawny in any means, but definitely no powerhouse stacked with muscle. His face was adorned with well groomed fur and a nicely cut beard. His face also adorned a grin that almost never seemed to leave. Bloodsand never found himself to be thankful when the beast graced him with his presence.

"How goes it, yer grace?" The cat asked with his usual accent. Bloodsand was surprised the beast had enough tact to remember the 'your grace' at the end. Usually it was a rather annoying nickname, or an insult... or both.

"I've got news from Hunch's favorite servant that you might like to see." He casually tossed a scroll at the High Lord.

His squire, who had been standing in silence, growled at this and moved forward. "Perhaps you'd do well to remember manners and not assault His Grace in such a way!"

"Oh, you're right," smirked Gnash. "don't want to accidently injure the good owner of sand with a piece of paper. Might accidently brush his fur the wrong way."

His squire, a young fox with reddish-orange fur by the name of Hish, glared daggers as he stepped back to his original spot. Bloodsand viewed the scroll, hoping to easily call it a fake and have this entire incident cleared, maybe even manage a slight punishment for Gnash for lying and causing such a stir in the first place. As he went on, however, he found that might not be an option. The message was clearly in Natos's handwriting, bore his seal, used the parchment of the White Dunes, and did in fact state intentions against the High Lord, in Natos's usual way with words. Bloodsand looked up to address Gnash, noting a very worried looking Natos still standing at the other end of the odd lineup.

'If this arrogant little degenerate somehow gets the best of Natos here in the courtroom...'

"Where would this messenger be?" he asked.

Gnash's smile dimmed a bit, though his voice didn't lose any cheek. "He'd be in the jail here in Yolatt. In which cell, I couldn't tell ya now."

"And why'd Hammerpaw be in prison, cat?" Natos demanded.

"Some items were found along with the scroll. It'd appear you hired quite the thief to be in your employment."

Bloodsand figured if they didn't get this over with quickly, Natos was likely to beat the cat to near death. 'Not that it would be a bad thing to see.' The ferret thought to himself. 'But let's not do it in my court.' He still wasn't overly convinced Natos was guilty, but with the evidence brought forth, it seemed like the trial would take longer. He looked out the window to see night had fallen over the land.

"We will continue this meeting tomorrow, in which I want the messenger brought here, as well as those who captured him." The High Lord stood, his voice clear and pleasant, while still being loud enough for everybeast in the massive room to hear. "I, the Lord of all Sands, conclude this court. May you all return now to your homes. And the sun's sister watch over you all."

"Praise be the sands and sun." Everybeast sounded back, and they all began to migrate towards the exit.

Bloodsand turned his attention back to the four in the middle. "As for the five of you, with the roles you play in this, you'll be staying in the castle for the night. I'll have guards escort you all to your rooms." The five nodded, exchanged glances of various emotions, and departed.

Hish approached the Lord with a bow. "Highest Lord, most of the guests have vacated. The bush-tailed one seeks short audience with you. Also, a few messages came in from the North Sands. Apparently they're under attack from an unknown army, and one by the name of Captain Fen requests that Lady Iceknife return with haste."

"Couldn't have picked a better time." Bloodsand rubbed his forehead. "Alright. I'll meet with the tree beast and then inform Lady Iceknife about the trouble. Hopefully we can just agree that one of her subordinates can take care of this matter."

"You know how the Lady is, my King. It is doubtful anything less than an order will still her paws and knife."

Hish excused himself as Bloodsand went to converse with the squirrel. She looked very out of place, an emerald dress draped over chestnut fur, her tail standing at an odd angle and exploding in excess fur. The sight was near comical, but Bloodsand had far too much respect to laugh. As he came closer, he noticed she was much taller than he originally guessed, nearly standing eye level with him. Her eyes matched her dress, and those very eyes seemed to be examining him, as well.

"Good day, My Lady."

"Greetings, High Lord. I apologize that I came here when things seem tense."

Her voice was lower in tone than he would've suspected, and had a bit of a gravely sound to it.

"Think nothing of it. A possible treachery is a common occurrence. In fact, the only cause of worry is that it's been nearly a season, and we've only had three such threats."

The squirrel smirked at the jape, and bid his lordship good day. She made to advance down the halls.

"Would you like a guard to assist you to your quarters, my lady?"

The squirrel paused, turning to face the king. "I believe I'll be able to find my way. Also, I carry no title. You don't have to bother yourself with adding, 'My Lady' to the end of everything."

"Duly noted. Pleasant dreams to you, ambassador."

"Likewise." With a word and a nod, she was gone. Bloodsand watched the bushy tail bob up and down as she walked, smiling to himself.

He then remembered the task at hand, and made his way through the maze like hallways to Lady Iceknife's room. He found two Northern Sand guards standing guard, but they quickly stepped aside for him. One knocked knocked gently.

"Who is it?"

"Zee High Lort Bluedsand, Mine Lady." Came the reply.

"Let him in, then."

Bloodsand entered the room, finding Lady Iceknife in a state of undress. She looked as though she were just getting ready to rest when he had come.

"Greetingz Lort Bluedsand. Vat can I do for you?"

'Put on some clothes.' The ferret erased the thought for requesting modesty from his mind, and instead got right to the point. "Your land is under attack by a northern army. One of your captains has asked that you return immediately to assist."

"Am I to be at two places at zee zame time, mine lort?"

The king sighed, walking toward the window and staring outside, whether to view his grand city or to be able to stop looking at a scantily clad noble one could not be sure. "I would rather you stay here for the morrow, until we can get this mess sorted out. Would this be a problem?"

"No."

The blunt response made Bloodsand do a double take. His reaction got a chuckle out of the lady.

"Zat iz to zay, I beliefe I am needed more here zan over zere. Mine captain most like was just trying to find an excuse to get me out off court faster. I haff no doubt that he vill fend off vatever enemy is troubling my land."

The high lord stared out the window, silently thanking the sun for the blessing of instant cooperation and assurance. He turned, thanked the lady, exited the room, and finally made his way towards his own bed chambers.

'The Summer is finally upon us, and I can certainly feel the lengthening of the days.' He thought groggily as he approached his guards. They both nodded, opening the doors for their weary ruler. He nodded back in gratitude and made no diversion in his course towards his mattress of feathers and silk. He landed with a _plop_ and a feather or two ejected into the air, fluttering back down onto the lord's head. He felt too exhausted to even remove them. Sleep found him without trouble.

* * *

Hish awoke early the next morning, with the sun's light and warmth breaking through the curtains to his window and showering him with comfort and energy. He quickly dressed and headed towards the Wing Tower. He ascended the numerous amount of steps with ease, and entered the nesting room. Three ravens were sound asleep in beds of straw, twig, and odds and ends, a fat crow resting in another. He checked their legs and nests to find no letters.

'Thank the Sun, the High Lord won't have to have any excess worries on top of the court today.' He sighed in relief and then quietly exited the room. Descending the large spiral mass of stairs, he quickly made his way to the king's chambers.

Immediately, he sensed there was something wrong. The space that was usually filled by two guards was void of anybeast, and their was a strong odor coming from behind the door. Cautiously, Hish approached the door, putting his ear to the door.

Silence.

Now Hish knew there was something wrong. High Lord Bloodsand's snores were loud enough to hear a hall down, let alone right outside the door. Even when he wasn't sleeping, he was usually muttering to himself or making some noise.

Hish pushed the door open and was greeted by the scent of blood forcefully invading his nostrils. He opened wide the door to view the single greatest horror he had witnessed thus far in his young life. Two rats clad in the armor of the castle guards were lying in a pool of red liquid which clung to their fur and stained their suits. Not that either one would notice at this point. But worse yet was what lay beyond that, on the king's very own bed.

The king's very own severed head.

Lord Bloodsand's body lay slumped by the foot of the bed, gashes decorating every inch of his arms, legs, torso, everywhere. The depth varied, but a few in the chest seemed to go straight through. Blood completely soaked the carcass. The head lying on the bed was also covered in red, though les in number and in depth.

"Guards! GUARDS! THE KING IS DEA-" Hish couldn't finish his frenzied scream as he had to pause to retch.

* * *

A/N: I wanted to put these at the end, because any time I put these at the beginning, I always jinx myself and never finish the chapter.

(Small rewrite happened. Doubt you'll notice where, but it'll be important later on, so... yeah, shift happens.

Alright, so a while ago I made this story called Southern Words, but I didn't like where it was going so I scrapped it. This was originally meant to be a part of that story, but instead I decided to have this be its own thing. So, for those who know me, expect the next chapter to come out sometime before 2017. Thanks for reading.


	2. Captain Fen

_WARNING: For those who dislike violence, the fight might be a bit much. I'm not talking overly gory or depraved or anything, just, y'know, if you're really not into that thing, skip from the first set of dots to the second. Enjoy._

 _Fen, Captain of the North Sands Territory_

Captain Fen listened to the sound of life ending. Judging by the volume, the right lives were being taken. His soldiers had been atop the great walls surrounding the outpost, Old Fang, and were raining down arrows at enemy invaders. They held the advantage at the moment. The wall was facing the North, where the force was coming from. That direction was filled with a great many slopes and dunes, which provided cover for the enemy. Unfortunately for them, the horde didn't know how to use it properly, and were occasionally hiding behind insufficient cover.

The horde, which called itself the Death Reapers, was supposedly led by a large, pitch black fox who fancied himself the title Lord Redpaw, "Harvester of All Life". Fen and some of the other captains had gotten a kick out of that.

"Why 'Harvester'? If the horde itself is called the Reapers, why not just call himself 'Lord Reaper'?" the rat captain named Chie questioned. "Do harvesters really sound more intimidating than reapers?"

"I'm just wondering what in Hellsgates this fool is doing down _here_. The desert isn't exactly an ideal place for farm lords," quipped Fen.

The others got a chuckle out of it. It was right of them to think so little of this would be conqueror, as they were the greatest captains in the North Sands.

Captain Chie had been stationed in a nearby fort when the horde first arrived, and had been the one to send messengers requesting reinforcements. She was somewhat stout, and a bit on the short side, her large ears coming to Fen's chest when they stood side by side. Her ax was nearly as tall as she was, yet when she wielded it, she had the speed and strength of a badger. The beasts under her command were personally trained by her, and could be expected to bring near the same brute force in melee attacks. A majority of them had been sent out the south entrance on the first night, and had been slowly wreaking havoc whenever they could. Fen personally knew Chie well, and he knew she wasn't the brightest star in the night sky. She and Fen were life long friends, from all the way when they were both stealing goods from bakers and shoving around the other little scamps in alley ways.

Captain Snow was said to be the bastard brother of Lady Iceknife, and when he had been promoted to captain, Fen remembered the talk of how the white ferret hadn't earned his position, besides from coming out of the same ermine the Lady had. When an bandit army from the east had tried to attack, Iceknife had merely sent Snow and a small band of scouts. The matter was dealt with in 6 days time, with a quarter of the army dead and the rest fleeing, while none of those under Snow's command had even sustained an injury. His specialty was camouflage and guerrilla tactics, hit and run, ambush style of fighting. Like his sister, he used knives, though more for throwing than stabbing. He and Fen got along thick as thieves, especially when drunk.

Captain Jun was a stoat captain, born and raised in the North Sands, and had not once ventured out of the land. She was mute, so she never received work as an envoy to other territories in the Empire, and her inability not to get drunk made her a poor choice for accompaniment for trips to the capitol. However, she knew her homeland better than any other could hope to, and often assisted Snow in his ambushes by pointing out areas on a wine-stain map where he could use shortcuts and make traps for enemies. She was also known for assisting Fen, though not exactly in combat.

Fen sat with his paw meeting Chie's on top of the table as they tried to get the other's down, all while a collection of soldiers were shouting words of encouragement, discouragement, and bets. Even past all of that, he could still hear the sounds of arrows being loosed outside, and the screams that followed immediately after. He grinned as he slowly pulled Chie's paw down, almost laughing at the strain on her face. He had her on the ropes, he could see it. Just a little bit further...

And then Chie's face went calm, and then a grin appeared as she effortlessly smashed Fen's paw onto the table with a distinguishable _thud!_

"Winner!" Snow shouted, raising Chie's paw. Fen rubbed his, though still kept his grin as he replied to Chie's smug look with a raised middle claw. The group around them disbanded, half with fuller pockets and smiles adorning their faces, half with lesser pockets and scowls. Captain Jun walked up and gave the fox a consolatory hug. He noted, however, a large bag of coins in her paw.

"You bet against me, didn't you." He accused, with an expression of mock offense. Jun merely gave him her best puppy dog eyes and rattled the coins in front of him. He took the meaning. "Smart bet. Let's go to the pub and put those winnings to good use."

Before the four of them could make it out the door, the door was opened by a weasel. Said weasel was donned in black armor, covering most of his body save for the tail and head. He was a rather ugly looking creature, and it was evident from the way he squinted and coughed that he was a northerner. Those who didn't grow up to sand being everywhere all the time had a hard time being anywhere at any time.

He peered around the room, before stopping with his ugly mug facing the quartet. He stomped over to them, the scowl doing nothing to compliment his face.

"I am the messenger for the Great Harvester, Lord of the Reapers. Are you in command of this base?"

"No, but we run this outpost." Chie replied.

The frown deepened, and Fen could see that this amused his rat friend.

"Which one of you has the highest authority."

"Most likely the barkeep. Why, you need a drink?"

The frown managed to find depths Fen had not thought possible on this weasel's scrunched little face, and even he was getting a kick out of how flustered and angry he was getting.

"Tell whoever is in charge around here that the Harvester of All Life wishes to challenge them to a duel. Whichever beast wins keeps the outpost."

A beat later, and the four were laughing at the weasel's ever reddening face. Fen composed himself the quickest, and spoke what they were all most likely thinking.

"Mate, you've got it wrong. When you're _winning_ a fight, then you can issue changes to it, make demands, offer deals, that sort of thing. When you're losing, you have about as much authority to offer something as a drunken beggar does to a high-end whore."

"The Harvester always has authority-"

"Of course he does, mate. It's alright. I get it. You have to give respect to the one supplying you your silly overweight armor and your pompous attitude. Good for you, you're doing a grand job. How about this. We'll send you back with a few terms, and if your little tiller agrees to em, I'll gladly fight him."

The other three ceased laughing at that. Fen hadn't needed to even say that, he could've just told the weasel to sod off and keep having their soldiers kill the others. Fen smiled though, as he gave his terms and sent the iron-clad vermin out with a drink. He went back to his chair and reclined, putting his foot-paws up on the table. Snow sent Chie and Jun to collect the alcohol.

"So, you're in the mood to fight."

The statement was never a question when aimed at Fen.

"Nah, I just remembered I hadn't gotten a gift for Lady Iceknife for a while, and this might just make a dandy one for her return."

"Why are you so driven to give a gift to my sister?"

"I like that funny little word our weasel friend used. Command. Got me to thinkin, maybe I don't want to be just a captain, but maybe a _commander._ Has a nice ring to it, eh? _Commander Fen._ "

Snow smiled, the same smile he always gave whenever he was about to indulge Fen's sense of grandeur. "So you think a few little new vermin to add will give her so much joy that she'll promote you to a rank that's never been an actual position before?"

"Why not?" Fen laughed. "I've proven myself many a time. I'm as loyal as a dog, or whatever you North dwellers say." He paused as their cohorts came back with beverages. He took a flask of oasis-wine and drank heavily. "Plus, I'd have the perfect design for a commander's armor."

"What's that?" Snow asked, though Fen could tell he already knew the answer.

"A reaper's cloak, and a harvester's skull for a cap."

...

'He's a twig.' The first thought Fen had about the dark colored fox carrying a small scythe in each paw, standing with a score of vermin at his back in the middle of a dune. He was standing straight, his flashy armor casting an annoying reflection to the captain's eyes. His boots were made of a sort of leather, and his helmet was oddly enough made of wood, with some fine carvings of axes and scythes on it. Fen couldn't keep a grin off of his face, hard enough it was to resist laughing. 'It's one thing to be pretentious, and quite another to just make a fool of yourself.'

"I ask for the one that's in charge around here, and instead they send me you?" The dark fox spat in Fen's direction. Fen realized he must look equally silly to this northern mongrel in this situation. In contrast to this Lord, Fen had barely armored himself, no boots, no helmet, no protective gear around his chest or mid section. The only thing he wore was a pair of rough-fabric trousers and jewel encrusted gloves. He carried no weapon. 'Am I making a fool of myself in his eyes, I wonder... meh, a fool's fool is more like than not in the right.'

"So, Ol' Lord Redpaw, where exactly do you hail from?"

"I am from the lower plains of Mossflower Wood, born unto the most deadly assassin groups of all, the Juskarage!"

"Do all bandit gangs have that silly of a name?"

The black beast seemed a bit irritated at being interrupted, but continued. "After seasons of honing my skill at dealing death, I took over, and dubbed them 'Reapers'. Would you like to know why?"

"I'm sure a pup could guess why, but by all means, keep talking."

"It is because any under my command decide the fate of my enemies. I took the moniker of the Harvester of All Life, as I can collect any I want at any time!"

"Do you ever actually use those for a harvest season, or did you just find them on a farm and thought they looked funny, so you kept them?"

"SILENCE!" The Reaper Lord finally allowed himself a break from his monologue to snap at the southern fox, who only smiled cheekily. "You know not what you face, you insolent fool!"

"Oh, on the contrary, you've quite impressed me, your Lordship. I got to be a well spoken captain due to the right parents, the right home, and the right actions. You were born, most likely an accident, to a rag tag bunch of daft, woods-dwelling mongrels, and yet you boast in a forced fine tongue that you're above me. Well, before you entice us with more of your life story, let me tell you the ending to it. You walked into enemy territory and died by the hands of Captain Fen, the fox in charge at an old, crumbling outpost that you failed to take."

"I will plant seeds in your carcass, common whelp!"

'Might have to ask Snow if that's a northern thing.' Fen thought as he thought of just how he wanted to kill his opponent. "You're neck."

"What?"

"Talk is over, let's begin."

The figures ran at each other at the last word, Redpaw swinging his scythes together to pierce the sides of this mouthy captain, only to sail through the air smoothly. He looked about until his eyes found the foe, hopping from paw to paw. He gave the northerner a wink, and made to run at him again. He swung a single scythe to meet him, only to have it sail through the air again. This time, he saw Fen dodge it, and swung to where he was now, only to miss again.

"The weapons suit you, milord. Slow and ineffective."

Redpaw grunted, and charged the captain, swinging his weapons this way and that with a fury that could be akin to bloodwrath. And it only grew as he continued missing, the smug smile always in his line of sight but always just out of reach of his grasp. He kept at it, sure the other fox would stumble at some point, and finally, he saw his chance. Fen tripped, and landed softly. Redpaw rushed forward, swinging down the scythes in what was sure to be a killing blow.

Only for the red fox to dart forward with astonishing speed and trip the somewhat weary Redpaw instead. He landed face first into the sand.

Fen took this time to look over to the twenty Reaper vermin. "My soon to be soldiers, remember the lessons from this fight. Lesson 1, a weary opponent is a preferred opponent."

Redpaw soon went back to his feet, his grip hardening on his weapons. "You think the battle is over, fool?"

Fen turned his head back, the smirk still plastered to his face. "This is hardly a battle, my dear farmer."

"Then put up a fight, and make it one!"

"With pleasure."

Fen was upon Redpaw before the latter could even blink. Three strikes landed, one to the mouth, one to the nose, and one to the eye. By the time the scythes were in motion, the captain had already gotten out of range. Lord Redpaw stumbled forward, determined to keep him on the run. It was so, until he felt one of his paws slip on the sand, his boots having less traction here than on the type of ground they were made for. He fell, and before he could pick himself up, he felt one of his scythes wrenched from his paw.

"Lessons 2 and 3: Suit yourself to your environment, and your enemy's weapons can easily be your weapons."

Redpaw got up, spit out some blood, and with both paws clasping the single scythe still in his possession, he attacked Fen once again. He panted heavily as he swiped this way and that. Meanwhile, Fen was amusing himself by occasionally making a clumsy swing at the Lord, missing by large increments at first, but coming closer each time. Soon, Redpaw felt a flick of pain on one of his ears, and felt blood run from the hacked off bit. The next swipe made a shallow cut in right leg, causing him to stumble more.

Redpaw knew that he was being toyed with, and decided it was time to resort to drastic measures. As he stumbled and fell to the sands again, he shouted."Kill him!" His voice was high and hoarse. After hearing the sound of loosed arrows and the slap of them hitting their target, he looked up in hopes of seeing a collapsed captain. Instead, he saw the best uninjured, save for a scowl replacing the smile.

"I owe Snow's beasts a round, because of that. You just had to go and hurry the coward technique. I had hoped you'd last another few blows."

Redpaw turned his head in confusion, and saw thirteen of his guards laying on the ground, looking llike pincushions. The other seven were on their knees, their bows and swords being confiscated by southern army beasts.

"No, this isn't possible!" He got up with difficulty, and made to swing again, only for the red fox to tear his scythe away with the other. Now weaponless, Redpaw knew he was finished. He fell to his knees, sobbing. "How could this happen!"

"You're a shit fighter." The answer was simple, blunt, and truthful.

"I yield." Redpaw said, his tone as pitiful and his appearance.

"No, you don't."

Redpaw's good eye widened as he asked in a frightened voice. "What?"

Fen's smile returned, even longer than before. "You heard me, Harvester. You agreed to my demands. Winner keeps both armies and the outpost. Winner has free access to all the North Sand lands. And finally, winner gets the privilege of taking the loser's life. Yielding was not an arranged action."

"No, no no please, have mercy, the fight is yours, please!" The black fox fell on his bottom and tried crawling away, but was easily caught by the red fox. He took hold of the fox's chest-mail and started pounding the black-furred face in. Blow after blow and blow, until the face was a mangles, misshapen, heavily cut masterpiece. He then placed both paws around the beast's neck and squeezed.

"Final lesson, new recruits. Always know what you're getting into before a fight." The snap helped punctuate the statement. "Now go join the remnants of your horde within our walls. Snow and Chie should be rounding them up as we speak."

The seven trudged past their former lord's carcass as they were overseen by some of Jun's guard. The stoat in question popped up from behind a dune, waltzing over to Fen and hugging the fox. He did his best to not get bloodstains on her armor as he returned the hug, though his paws were rather red. 'Got red paws from Redpaw, that'll get a laugh out of Chie.'

His thought was interrupted as Jun locked lips with him, and it wasn't long before the two were lying in the dunes, in each other's arms.

'Got some fresh meat, killed a cocky little mongrel, about to finish the day off right. All in all, it'd be hard for this day to be ruined.'

"Urgent news si- oh... uh..."

'Didn't realize fate could read thoughts, otherwise I wouldn't have tempted it.' Fen sighed as he rolled to get a good view of the messenger. A blushing ferret covering her eyes.

"Jun, could you fetch my clothes, she looks uncomfortable."

A brief minute later, and Fen properly received a note from the messenger, who quickly departed. Fen could sense Jun trying to look over his shoulder at the scroll, so he decided to give her the gist of it. "Looks like I'll be departing for Yolatt in a few days."

Jun gave her puppy dog eyes, though they both knew they'd have little effect when matters of the royal court were involved. As always Fen said she could travel along if she promised to not inhale too much alcohol, to which she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Didn't think so. Well, the mood has already been killed, let's go back to the bar and see if we can't revive it a bit." She frowned, shook her head, and stretched her arms up.

"Aye, I suppose it is a bit late for that. Still, bar is a good idea, right?" An eager nod of the head was all he needed to get his mind off the news as they both headed towards the outpost.

'Nice try fate, but you're going to have to do more than kill a king before you ruin my day.' he thought as he walked with his bloody paw around his lover's hip away from the corpse that already started to accumulate flies.

* * *

In the immortal words of Ser Bronn of the Blackwater: "Nothing like a woman after a fight."

Also, turns out I'm not too good at writing fight scenes. Though I do hope to improve.

Finally, a thanks to Lepidolite Mica, who was kind enough to check over the first third of this chapter a while back and help me with some spelling issues. Cheers to everyone's favorite grammatical granite. Also, just in case you've been living under a rock, go check out the man's story, bloody brilliant mix of adventure, humor, and interesting characters.

Thanks for reading. Next chapter will come out sometime before June.


	3. Kahaktra the bodyguard

_The White Sea_ was shabby, even by West Mohan standards, but Kahaktra Jeiss found herself standing inside the building all the same. Why Prince Vro had decided on this establishment instead of those with better reputations was a question that had entered her mind early on, but she figured out the most logical explanation for that. All the other whore houses around the area were owned by Dreeze, and she recalled her prince and the fennec leaving on harsh terms the last time they spoke.

'You'd think he'd wake up and remember that the judgement of the owner of a few brothels doesn't mean so much to a possible future lord of the land.' Yet Vro was an exceptionally... emotional young beast. When he was still a pup his father had figured that since he was the last of the seven of his children, he wouldn't have to spend so much time teaching him how to run a southern territory. The pup was instead raised more by the arts and was taught more in compassion and passion than politics, budget, and strategy... though he still showed promise in the last category, so long as he thought of battles as more a game than actual events. Still, Vro was planned to be far from any position of actual power.

However, the West Mohan royal family was delivered blow after blow. Vro's father, Vaman, and his eldest brother, Vutmor, were killed after their ship, _The Western Serpent,_ was sunk by a storm between Tincao Island and the Yellow Beaches. The mother of the family, Harba, died due to illness. The eldest sister, Vrienna, and the second son, Vrann, were taken hostage during the Zadarian Rebellion, and neither had been seen since. The fourth and fifth children, Valma and Viktor, had been attacked by "bandits" in the East Mohan territory, and had died from the injuries sustained from it. Finally, the sixth child and last daughter, Vronna, was in Yolatt, attending a banquet and providing a testimony in some investigation.

'Wonder if she'll die on the way there, or the way coming back.' Kahaktra thought absent mindedly. She despised the Mohan family she worked for immensely. Her mother had been a servant when Kahaktra was born, and she hadn't made it long after that. Despite constantly training and acquiring a skill for combat, her only choices were to pick up where her mother had left off, or to go into prostitution. She had decided the former, though early on she thought she might've regretted the decision. Not that the work was too hard, but the parents were snobs and the children were brats, with the exception of Vro.

When Vro was just getting out of his pup seasons, he had it in his mind that he wanted to be a warrior, if he couldn't be a lord. A valiant knight or captain that could still bring glory to the Western Mohan family name. The sibling in charge at the time, Valma, had denied his request for a tutor, so he had gone off to sulk. Kahaktra practiced more that night with a sword she "found" lying by the armory, and when she finished, she came face to face with an impressed Vro. After some insistence, she agreed to show the stoat a thing or two, mainly because he had threatened to have her head for the stolen sword.

A few seasons later, and the weasel found herself the bodyguard to a very possible candidate for the lordship of the third richest territory in the Southern Empire. 'Should hope I picked the lucky one that won't die too terribly quick.' She thought as she stood outside a door. The room behind it was quieting down, and judging by the time and the noise, she'd guess that the whore was probably good, at both performing and pretending the little lord was good as well. She kept her paw on top of her sword, the same one from the armory, specially made from some far off mine in Sampyerta or something. All she knew was it was a treasured gift for the Western Mohan family, and she cherished the thought that the two old blokes were rolling in their graves knowing it was in her possession.

The door opened, and the fennec whore strutted off without a word. 'Wow, she's in a hurry... good lord, was he that bad?'

She peeked in the room to see the stoat lying there, motionless, on the bed. Gingerly, she entered the room and plopped herself on the bed. "I should hope you did more than this, otherwise I think you should pay her more."

A muffled sound came from the young noble.

"Well, way I see it, if you're going to make her do all the work, she should be compensated accordingly."

"Since when do you use words like 'compensated'?"

She wondered why it was that word that got him up off the pillow, which she saw had two wet marks on it.

"Were you crying?" She asked, incredulous.

"That's none of your concern."

"What, did she laugh when you showed her-"

"Is that any way to speak to your lord?" Vro was trying to use his commanding voice, but it didn't really work coming from the face of a red-eyed, snot-nosed not-lord.

"Aye, it is, if you'll remember the fact that you're not a lord."

The stoat looked like he was holding back tears as he shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. I just got word this morning. Vronna is not allowed to leave Yolatt."

"And that's reason enough to assume yourself a lord and glumly fuck a fennec?"

"Not just that; Bloodsand is dead."

'Alright, didn't see that one coming.' She had heard some mutterings that something big had apparently happened at Yolatt for the investigation, but she just figured some minor noble just got a little bit of land revoked or something. Emperor dying, that one is new.

"So the good ol' keeper died. Didn't know you liked him that much."

"That's not why I was crying, Kaha." Vro composed himself somewhat. "Do you remember what happened the last time an emperor was murdered?"

"How long ago was that?"

"Four hundred and fifty seasons ago."

"Then no, I wouldn't remember that."

"I studied that time back when I was a pup. Almost any time an emperor dies, the lands go to war. Whether it's because some blame others for the death, some have long standing rivalries or grudges, or just if some want more land, it makes no matter. There's always a war."

"Alright."

"No, no it's not _alright._ I have to take over as acting lord due to my sister's absence. I might have to contend with building an army, trying to find out who might be allying with whom to possibly oppose me."

"Seems like you're rushing to conclusions a bit, _m'lord_."

"I'm a Mohan, it's my nature to expect the Sun has it out for me."

"Well, fuck the sun."

"I'd rather not, I'd lose any religious allies then."

"Alright, so you think a war might start. So... make some allies for it."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not? While the pickings are good and everyone is on edge, find some stronger allies, sit pretty, and should any territory attack you, attack back with your new friends."

"Well... I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try and create stronger bonds with other lands."

"See, good thinking. Plus, just in case there isn't a war and it's just you being paranoid, we can still get strong bonds with other lands. Win-win."

Vro, finally looking to have regained full composure, nodded along to this. Kahaktra was pleased to see him in better spirits. He reminded her of his family when he got all moody and mopey and worrisome. When he got into business such as this, there was a spark to those red eyes Kaha could almost respect. 'Sure makes guard duty a lot more fun when he's thinking of war.' She smirked as he rushed over to his bags. 'Even in the sleaziest of places, he's always ready to start planning for one.'

"Alright," his voice held none of the fear or worry that it had mere minutes before. Now it was nothing but enthusiasm. "I figure we have a solid alliance with the Yellow Beaches, they're our main trade ally. If what rumors I hear are true, that means we'll end up allying with the East Marshes and the North Sands, and we'll be against the White Sands. All fine and good, those bastards have been far too chummy with East Mohan as it is."

"I suppose we'll just have to cross East Mohan out?"

"We'd have a better time taming pike and turning water to ale than finding any sort of ally in our dear distant family to the East."

"Wish I could see your family reunions."

"You might, they're very _lively_. Two of my siblings are still over there collecting worms from the last one."

Kahaktra plucked out a knife to start cleaning her claws. She listened to Vro mumble on about issues with gaining North Sands troops due to the areas they'd have to cross, troubles that might arise in the Southernmost territories, and how this might affect trade with the Isles.

"So that leaves us with a decent amount of possible allies around our Western front. To the south and east we'll need stronger defenses. We'll have to start ramping up negotiations with the Grey Isles and Tincao Island. If we get the Isles, we have the entire West Sea under our control. We can use that and the East Marshes to sweep down on any resistance in the South." With all ports blocked off, and enemies this way and that mainland, we'll be on the winning side of this thing."

Kahaktra hated to burst the poor young stoat's bubble, seeing as he looked so pleased with himself, but the voice of reason had to be heard at least a little bit. "This sounds more like a 'best case scenario' type of thing."

"Oh it is," Vro said, still just as energized. "But for once, the best case scenario is fairly easy to achieve. We'll have to make preparations immediately. Send some of our personal messengers to Yellow Beaches, maybe a few to the Red Sands and North Sands. After that-"

"So you're going to send out all your personal messengers on the vague idea that there might be a war that springs from a trial that happened the day before the death of a _single ferret._ A war that'll go _exactly as you just said, with absolutely NO CHANCE_ that anybeast might do something different or have their own plans."

Vro stared blankly at his map, and soon Kaha went back to cleaning her claws.

"What would you suggest we do?" Vro asked, less bombastic, but at least not full on distraught sounding again.

"Up trade, and leave it at that. Lower costs for certain potential allies, give gifts to concrete allies, and for the Sun's sake stop talking of sending out all your personal messengers. That's a great way to make it seem like you're the one instigating conflict. Might not make for a good character if and when an opportunity for allies DOES arise."

"Huh." Vro looked to be content enough with her counsel.

"Now, unless you need me to send another fennec in here to get the rest of the energy out of your system, I'd say we relax, and go back to Mohan Keep."

The stoat looked to be seriously contemplating making another call, but seemed too weary for another round. He followed his guard out of the room and to the main lobby. She noticed two pretty little things over by the corner pointing and giggling at the young lord as they exited. She snarled at them and made a show of going to unsheathe her sword, and with that their giggles turned to yelps as they fled. The duo made their way out of the building, and Kahaktra grabbed their gear.

Donning their disguises, they headed out for the walk back to their home.

"Kaha... there was one other reason that I was... shedding some tears."

Kaha translated that to 'crying like a mewling kitten' and decided to respond. "And that was?"

"What if something happens to Vronna? I mean, all these plans, I'd have to get Vronna to agree to them, as she's the beast in charge... but what if something happens at Yolatt and she isn't able to come home? What if she's been hurt?"

"Well, then you won't have to convince anybeast of your plans and set them forth yourself."

"Kahaktra!"

The cloaked weasel turned sideways to see her only "friend" staring at her in shock and slight hurt.

"Well, alright, that may have been a bit too blunt. But Vro, you have to admit, the Sun hates your family. I'd be surprised if she was even alive still. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can continue forward with preparing for possible wars and trade regulation."

"Most beasts would put their family before wars and trade. Many more poems written about the former subject than the others."

"Aye, but most beasts aren't lords and poets can go lick a cactus for all the good they do. If West Mohan has any chance for survival if your predictions are accurate, you're going to need to be more invested in following through with your plans."

Kaha gave it some more thought, and then added one more command. "Once you become lord, change your name, something that doesn't start with a V."

"Why?"

"Your family is cursed, maybe that's the reason. Maybe the Sun just hates the letter."

"What would you have me change myself to? Johsan? Karlai?"

"Perhaps add a title that fits you. Johsan the Whore's Fan? Karlai the Crying?"

That shut the stoat up for a good few minutes, and to her amusement Kaha could see the last comment had gotten the lordling rather perturbed. She smiled, and they continued their walk down the dusty road from the quiet old town of Grodon to the lavish city surrounding Mohan Keep. There they could discard their disguises, and easily make it back home.

"I think I may go to the gardens, maybe clear my head a bit."

Kahaktra scoffed, knowing full well he'd receive no clearer thoughts at the gardens. He'd go there, but only to see Dreeze, hoping he could find a way to make amends from their latest fight.

"After you give her some flowers and apologies, you'd best make your way up to the study to start sending out some offers and deals."

Kahaktra looked over, hoping to see that she'd gotten under the young lord's skin again, only to find him staring forward, no longer walking. Confused, she turned her head towards the direction.

A large billow of smoke was forming up ahead, and Kahaktra knew such a fire to make that smoke could only come from one place.

"Kepp up, m'lord." Without waiting for a response, the weasel darted from the road onto the sandy dunes, racing towards Mohan Keep. As she approached closer, she got a better visual on her home.

A giant beast of flame enclosed the city-fortress in a close hug, it's grip on the outside of the walls and the tops of the buildings. It's crackling growl could be heard vast distances away, along with screaming. High pitched, long and strained, getting across any and all pain any living thing could ever feel. It was all Kahaktra could focus on as she raced ever closer. She was but meters away from one of the entrances when an object forced her down in a tackle.

"Kaha, get down."

"Get off me, you grand idiot, there are beasts in there."

"Aye, and some of them are doing the burning!

"How do you-"

"I saw murdered guards outside the main gate, now still yourself and wait!"

That was the one thing she couldn't bring herself to do, but Vro kept her constrained anyway. 'Everything I've ever known is in there, you son of a whore!' she wanted to shout, but kept her mouth closed and obeyed her lord's command. They found a ridge to hide behind, and waited. And waited. And waited. All to the sounds of screams. And burning. And everything they knew and loved perishing a mere wall away.

Finally, the screams started dying down with the fire, and after an even greater length of time, there was silence, and a calm that was almost worse than all the noise. This was broken by the sounds of footsteps coming from the entrance, and both beasts peaked over the dune.

Several armed moles and a badger emerged, all adorned in full metal and wood outfits, save for the badger, who wore naught but light leather and furs. He also carried a great spiked mace.

Kahatra had never seen moles before, thinking them almost a comical sight, especially compared to the size of the badger, until she noticed what they were holding. Torches. Rage filled her being, and Vro had to place a paw on her to remind her not to do anything brash.

"Bring out the prisoners!" A mole yelled, and soon more moles arrived, walking in formation around singed weasels and stoats, and a particularly angry looking fennec. Kaha felt the paw on her shoulder tighten. 'Vro, follow your own advice. Don't do anything brash. Please don't do something stupid.' She figured he would, though.

Unsurprisingly, he sprung up and ran over. Kahaktra, whether out of instinct or out of duty, followed him.

"Release her, and the rest, now!" Vro stood as tall as he could, using his most commanding voice.

"No."

'Well, that didn't work. Let's see if he responds better to steel.' Kaha made for her sword, but before her paw even made it to her hilt, three moles had spears pointed towards her.

"No." The badger said to her, waving a claw in a patronizing sort of way. Before she could respond, Vro stepped in between them.

"Are you beasts responsible for burning Mohan Keep?"

"Yes."

"Are there any more in there?"

"... Yes."

"Why-"

"Perhaps," a mole stepped forward, shorter and stouter, yet dressed slightly more impressively than the rest. "I can explain better. I apologize for my friend's brief answers, Hugor is still new to the language. I am Captain Montigew of the Steel Sands Territory. Due to recent information, West Mohan's Lady Vronna is under charge of conspiring to murder Emperor Bloodsand."

Kahaktra was a bit confused by the mole's speech pattern at first, thinking all spoke in that odd dialect. Then again, she had mostly heard of Northern Moles, not much of the few that lived down south.

"Blasphemy!"

"No."

Kahaktra really wish she could take out the badger's tongue at that moment, but the spears would probably reach her throat first.

"Well, evidence suggests otherwise. I assume you are of West Mohan, what with the outburst and all?"

"No sir," Kahaktra began. "we are only-"

"Vro of West Mohan, brother of Lady Vronna and protector of this Keep while she is away."

'I really hate this family.' Kaha groaned.

"Pleasure to meet you, good night."

Before anybeast could blink, the shaft of a mace connected to the side of Vro's head, knocking him out.

'The badger is going to die for that.' Kahaktra thought to herself as she slowly turned her glare to the behemoth.

"As for the rest of you, you hardly make for fitting captives against a lordling. I'm afraid you'll all be visiting your friends and relatives now. Hugor, have some more fun." As Montigew turned around, Hugor brought his huge mace down upon the head of a quivering weasel noble. Every hole in his face was left wide open, with blood spurting from the new hole atop his dome. Hugor stepped on the weasel's body and ripped the mace off, nearly taking the weasel's head with it.

"Take the lordling back to base." Quickly, two moles had the stoat and ran. Then Montigew drew a shortsword and swiped a female stoat's tail off.

The other moles got the idea, and soon they were stabbing nobles and other survivors left and right. Two spear points made their way to Kahaktra, but her sword cut them both in half, and soon did near the same to the beasts that were holding them. She eyed the badger, who was preoccupied with another kill, but saw instead a short figure rushing her with a small sword. One cleave sent the bloody corpse of Captain Montigew sprawling on the desert sand.

The fighting (or more, butchering with lively victims) stopped as the badger turned, saw the corpse of the stout fellow, and emitted such a roar that dwarfed even that of the fire's. Kahaktra took this as a sign to make her retreat. She darted off in a completely random direction, not caring about the fact that there was most likely a monster on her heels. All of her energy was given to her legs as she soared above the sands like a strong wind.

'Stay alive. Stay alive. Get Vro back. Stay alive. Kill badger. Stay alive. Pray to the Sun to keep me alive. Get Vro back. Kill badger. Stay alive.'

* * *

Aaaaaand NOW I'll end it.

Ok, I'll level with you guys, there was a lot of stuff packed into this chapter. I'm almost afraid too much stuff.

However, if it persists in bothering me, I'll go back and rewrite it later. For now, I'm going to relax and get back to other stuff I've been keeping on hiatus. Maybe the hoofbasket, or another news segment... or finishing that bloody Whose Line. I dunno.

Thanks for reading, leave a review if you'd like.


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